Page 8 of The Billionaire's Lost Family

He had to admit, he would have liked knowing what Melanie was saying as well.

“Wonderful,” Hazel said, sounding genuine. She cast a smile at Wesley. “Oh, thank you so much. Can you call Franco for me? Will you let him know what happened?”

A female voice could be heard for several more minutes. Then Hazel smiled, bopped a fist on the glass counter, and said, “Thank you, Melanie. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

She placed the phone back on the receiver. The relief on Hazel’s face was enough to tell him that the news was good.

“It will be okay,” Hazel assured him. “She’s going to forward some money to our hotel in case we need it while we locate my bag, and she’s going to contact the American Embassy and contact the Arkansas state senator to pull some strings and get my passport renewed and shipped to us.”

“The senator?”

“Money talks,” Hazel said with a shrug. “We’ll need to hang tight in the meantime. The good thing is, she knows where we are, and we have a way to get ahold of her.”

“Okay,” he said, catching on to the relief she emitted. “We can work with that.” His stomach growled. The coffee they’d shared that morning hadn’t been much to go on. “We’ll need to find some way to manage until then.”

“Manage?”

He shrugged. “I’m hungry. I have some cash, but not much.”

“And I told the woman at the counter I’d pay for the international call,” Hazel added, her gaze sliding to the shopkeeper’s. “What do we do until Melanie contacts the embassy?”

Wesley rubbed a hand over his jaw and thought it over. “Your luggage is fancy, right? Like, worth a lot?”

Hazel’s nostrils flared. Something flashed in her eyes. “Will you stop with the luggage, please?” she snapped. “I’m not really in the mood for teasing right now, and you’ve done nothing but give me grief for that luggage since you saw it. Yes, it’s obnoxious and I happen to love it. Yes, I made a mistake bringing something that stood out so much, okay?”

He’d known he would eventually push her too far. Still, it had been fun to tease her about it. “That’s not what I mean,” he said, stroking her shoulder. “I’m saying, I think I know of something we can do in the meantime. If you really did leave your bag on top of the car, someone around here has to have seen it. Undoubtedly, this woman sees stuff come and go. Maybe she’s heard something.”

He offered his hands. The shopkeeper continued watching them, hands on her hips and curiosity pinching her brow.

“What do you have in mind?” Hazel asked.

“Well,” Wesley said, “we are in a pawn shop. Maybe we bring in your cow—”

Hazel’s glare deepened.

“—luggage. We can ask her if she’s seen a bag that matches it. That way we can feel like we’re accomplishingsomethingwhile we wait for your assistant to get ahold of Franco.”

“You hate my luggage that badly?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “No!” he said, sounding far too defensive.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Okay, yes, I hate your luggage. But that’s not what I’m saying. Maybe someone brought your bag in. This woman would probably pay for a purse of that quality.”

The shopkeeper perked up, as if this was the opening she’d been waiting for. “Sim. Yes, I buy. You sell,” she said in agreement.

“Probably not what it’s worth,” Hazel said under her breath.

Wesley leaned in to continue the conversation in her ear. “No, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, you don’t have anything else to offer her for the phone call.”

Hazel exhaled, fluttering a stray, black lock of hair near her face in the process. “And we’re certainly beggars now.”

Wesley kissed her temple and pulled her close. Her skin was as sticky as his, but her heart kept time against his chest, and he took heart in that. At least in all of this neither of them had gotten hurt.

“Trust me,” he said. “I’ll even buy you new hideous luggage when we get home.” He placed a persuasive kiss on her cheek.

Moment by moment, inch by inch, Hazel relaxed in his embrace. Giving in, she released a chuckle. Wesley mimicked it, grateful they were able to work together through this mess.

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